


colours in the dark

by tookumade



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Injury Recovery, M/M, Post-Time Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:27:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27045724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tookumade/pseuds/tookumade
Summary: Osamu wakes up at 3:17am to an empty bed. He’s not sure what woke him up, but here he is. He lays a hand on the mattress where Suna should’ve been lying, and finds that it’s cool. So, Suna’s been gone for a while. Osamu waits and listens for any sound that might give him an idea of what he’s doing, maybe a clatter from the kitchen of the bathroom… but there’s nothing.He sits up with a sigh. Again.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 30
Kudos: 448





	colours in the dark

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [SunaOsa Week](https://twitter.com/sunaosaweek), **day 7:** best friend / husband

Osamu wakes up at 3:17am to an empty bed. He’s not sure what woke him up, but here he is. He lays a hand on the mattress where Suna should’ve been lying, and finds that it’s cool. So, Suna’s been gone for a while. Osamu waits and listens for any sound that might give him an idea of what he’s doing, maybe a clatter from the kitchen or the bathroom… but there’s nothing.

He sits up with a sigh. Again.

Osamu pulls off the covers, stretches, digs out a light jacket from their shared closet, and heads out. As expected, when he pokes his head into the living room, Suna is sitting by the door that leads out to the balcony. His right leg with a brace at the ankle is stretched out in front of him, and his left leg is tucked close and he is hunched over and resting his chin against it. He is staring into the night. The moon is bright and almost full. He looks up when Osamu shuffles into view, and he smiles. Osamu doesn’t need light to know that his smile isn’t reaching his eyes.

“You know you’re not supposed to move around so much,” Osamu chides him gently. He drapes the jacket over Suna’s shoulders and sits beside him.

“Couldn’t sleep,” says Suna.

“Again?”

“I’m okay.”

Osamu puts an arm around him and pulls him close, pressing a kiss to his hair as Suna leans into him without protest. There’s impatience and frustration tumbling off him in waves, something Osamu can almost touch. Suna is currently sitting in the middle of week two of a four-week recovery period after spraining his ankle during a match. His block had won his team the set, but he had slipped on some sweat on the court floor and his landing had been clumsy, causing him to roll his ankle and fall. He had been substituted out for the last set. EJP still managed to win their match, but that last set had been an uncomfortably close call.

Osamu had been selling onigiri at a Red Falcons’ home match in Osaka at the time. Watching the video footage afterwards of Suna taking a tumble had made his stomach lurch. Injuries were common in sports, but that didn’t mean they would ever be easy to watch.

The past two weeks have been strange. Suna is vocal in his delight about getting out of doing household chores, jokingly bratty in the way he exaggeratedly bats his eyelashes at Osamu whenever Suna asks him to get something or do something for him, and loud about how bored he gets sometimes when social media is quiet. He holds a handful of reasonably popular Instagram and LINE livestreams where he answers some fan questions and talks about his recovery process and how he can’t wait to get back to regular training with EJP Raijin. Occasionally, his teammates would remotely join his streams to support and heckle him in equal amounts.

Outside of all this, Suna is quieter than usual. Outside of all this, his smiles and smirks aren’t as genuine or as playful. For all his talk about finally being able to take a break, there is a restlessness about him that Osamu hasn’t really felt before. This injury had made Suna surprisingly fragile. 

“You know,” Osamu murmurs, “you could retire any time you want. You could come work with me. You wouldn’t even need to work—you could just sit at the counter and look pretty and bring in the fans. You could be my trophy husband.”

This makes Suna laugh a little—and it’s something real, this time. 

“You think I’m pretty?”

“ _That’s_ what you focused on?”

“Do you, though?”

“Of course I do.”

Grinning, Suna ducks his head to burrow against the crook of Osamu’s neck and shoulder.

“It’s true, I would make a pretty hot trophy husband,” he says.

“Right? My profits would double. I could have special themed menus… ooh, I could make onigiri with your face cut out from seaweed— _ack!_ ”

Suna has shoved him playfully. Osamu topples sideways.

“Oh, _god_ ,” Osamu wheezes. “You’ve really been training your upper-body strength all this time, huh? You might be able to finally beat me at arm-wrestling.”

“I’m more likely to sprain my shoulder, doing that. Or my elbow. Or my wrist. Maybe all three?”

Osamu is still lying on the floor, peering up at him in the moonlight. “Well, I’d take responsibility. My offer for you to be my trophy husband still stands.”

Suna snorts. “You’re a true romantic.”

“Is that a no?”

He doesn’t need light to know that Suna is smiling at him fondly when he answers, “It’s not a no.”

“Ooh, I’m swooning.” Osamu pushes himself upright and settles by Suna’s side again. He kisses his temple, his lips lingering there, and he whispers, “Be patient. Take your time. You said your ankle was already feeling better than it did on the weekend, right?”

“Yeah…”

“That’s good. It’s healing. You’ll be back to blocking and jumping and spiking and being an absolute pain in the ass to play against in no time.”

“You really do say the sweetest things, darling.”

“I was your teammate for three whole years, Rin. I’m not gonna mince my words. I was your stepping-stone to success, and I’m holding that against you _forever_.”

Suna laughs again, and it’s a good sound. At this moment, he doesn’t seem as frustrated and restless, and that’s a good feeling.

Osamu would sit here with him all night, if that was what Suna wanted. They both know this. Osamu could whip up a quick meal and hot miso soup and they would sit there with only moonlight lighting up the room as they ate and drank and talked quietly until the beginnings of sunrise began to peek over the horizon. That was what they did on the fifth day of Suna’s recovery period, after Osamu woke up to find he had left the bed then. He ended up taking the day off work to keep Suna company. Since then, Osamu has woken up in the middle of the night two more times to find Suna has left the bed, and both times, he has gently led him back. They haven’t stayed up all night again.

If Suna wanted him to stay, he would.

But…

He nudges Suna’s shoulder lightly. “How about it? Come back to bed, Rin.”

“Mm…” Suna hums. “Yeah… Yeah, okay. Carry me.”

Osamu gives him an exaggerated pout. “But ever since I quit volleyball, my arms have gotten all weak from under-use.”

“Excuse me,” says Suna. “I know for a _fact_ that you carry bags of rice like they’re pillows, and you’ve got killer biceps, so don’t you dare give me that.”

“Been staring at my muscles, huh, Rin?”

“They’re the main reason I keep you around.” Suna winks at Osamu’s mock-scandalised face. “Plot-twist: you’re _my_ trophy husband.”

“Oh! _Suna Rintarou!_ ” Osamu presses the back of his hand against his forehead dramatically as Suna dissolves into another wave of laughter. “You’re lucky you’re pretty!”

“Is that a no?”

Osamu hums and pretends to ponder it for a moment before saying, “It’s not a no. My muscles _are_ pretty killer.”

“I’m swooning.” With a grin, Suna leans over to kiss the corner of his mouth. “But, uh, seriously… help me up, will you?”

“All right, all right, I got you.”

He lets Suna put an arm around his shoulders, holding onto him as they both slowly and awkwardly stand, trying not to jostle Suna’s bad ankle as he pushes himself up using his good leg. The jacket Osamu had draped around him falls off, and Osamu simply nudges it aside with his foot to deal with in the morning. When they’re standing, Suna takes a deep breath of the early, early morning air, and then exhales softly. Osamu wraps his arm around Suna’s waist, and they look at each other with small, warm smiles.

“Good?” Osamu murmurs.

Suna nods. “Yeah. Good.”

And then, side-by-side, hobbling unsteadily but slowly and patiently, they make their way back to their bedroom. 

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/naffnuffnice/)


End file.
